I recently listened to an online talk about healing, though I can’t recall the name of the woman. She had gone through a long season of grief. She had no idea how deeply it had affected her life and her energy levels, or how much it had changed her. Grief has a way of making you numb when too much of it comes to you at once. She met an American Indian healer who saw right away the deep loss and sadness in her. She took a soft leather flog, sort of like what they would use to beat on a drum, and proceeded to use it to beat the grief out of her. It wasn’t painful, but cathartic. She beat on her back with it, behind her heart. She said she was shocked by the effectiveness of it, and the healing tears that came flowing forth like a mountain stream after the thaw. I need a leather flog to beat the grief out of my heart, because there is no room for anymore. I must knock it all loose: my mother’s suicide, my babies, my husband’s young love lost to leukemia, my grandparents, my father, my foster parents, and oh so many friends and furry family members. I love them all, and I carry them in my heart always. But right now they all seem so heavy and my heart feels full of sludge. I need a drain plug and a high powered hose of some sort. Clean me out Lord, clean me out! In an effort to help the process, I have been cleaning my surroundings out and getting rid of excess things that used to define me and no longer do. I have given up items I never thought I would part with. All of this loss has changed me. I don’t know who I am becoming. Sometimes I think I could live in a cave like the hermit in that Tom Robbins novel/movie “Even Cowgirls Get the Blues.” I actually hitchhiked with a guy back in the olden days of my crazy misspent youth who used these same techniques, (see clip) and we always got a ride! I wonder what ever happened to him. Sometimes I miss those days. As Jerry Garcia said “What a Long Strange Trip it’s Been.”

Well, if even cowgirls get the blues, then I'm digging a hole in the ground and jumping in! I'll need to wait for the swelling to go down in my foot, though, so I can dig the hole. Maybe I'll go buy a bottle of Tequila to drink while I'm waiting. These blood clot blues are a b*t&h, too! :-(

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Hi! I'm Marguerite Bryant, but most folks just call me "M." This blog will be a place to share my musings and inspirational ideas.You can email me at: artlovin1@suddenlink.net.